


i know where to put it

by kakashihatake123



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashihatake123/pseuds/kakashihatake123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She had never been with a man who held her hand as they made love, his long fingers curling around hers, gripping her like he was afraid to release. Who knew that she was ticklish so he brushed the hair from her eyes. Who knew that if he touched her just <i>there</i> she would nearly scream with pleasure. She had never been with a man who knew her as well as Jon did."</p><p>Written for the prompt: "Sansa is frustrated because she can't masturbate and then she asks for Jon's help."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know where to put it

**Author's Note:**

> And for aliceofalonso who was dying to see this fill written!

i know where to put it

Sansa hummed in frustration, blinking up at the fan that whirled against the stuccoes ceiling. It had been over half and hour and…nothing. _Nothing_. Not even a hint of an approaching orgasm.

Sansa frowned. Was she doing it wrong? From what Margaery had told her it had seemed more than simple. The brown haired girl had even showed her a video on how to go about it, the two women blinking down at the flashing laptop screen in slight embarrassment.

"At first it’s sort of awkward." Margaery had said, pointing down at the screen. "You have to learn what you like. Where you like to be touched, there or there or _there_. If you like your nipples-"

Sansa had been more than thankful when the door opened and Daenerys had walked in, her eyes passing between them as she took in the sounds of moaning and cheesy jazz music coming from the open laptop, to Sansa's flushing face, to Margaery's sly grin. "Am I interrupting something?" the silver haired girl asked, looking pleased with herself as Sansa's flush deepened. She closed the door, leaning her back against it as she crossed her arms across her chest. "You know you're supposed to put a sock on the door if-"

"Keep your knickers on." Margaery said, waving her away. "I'm only teaching our girl how to masturbate."

"Really?" said Dany, sinking onto the other side of the sofa. "I never thought this day would come.” She faked a tear. “My sweet, innocent girl is all grown up now."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "I don't know why I even bother with you two."

"Come back here!" Dany said as Sansa made for the door, shooting them an exasperated look. "We’re only teasing."

The trio had spent most of the afternoon and evening in conference, heads bent over the laptop, searching the web for anything they could find on first time masturbation tips. Cosmopolitan proved the most effective for education on this task and once they had gotten passed the cheesy joke tips it had actually made sense.

And now Sansa lay on her back in her empty flat, vaguely aware that Margaery had left the room knowing full well what was to go on while she was away. Sansa might be embarrassed if she wasn’t so frustrated with herself.

As Cosmo had suggested an array of sweet smelling candles were lit and spread across the room, illuminating everything in golden flickers. And though she had felt inherently foolish at the time she had sprayed a pump or two of her favourite perfume, as the magazine had bade her.

Sansa's white comforter was pulled up to her chin, as though she was afraid someone might see her through the locked door and curtained window, and she had already been trying so long that her hand and wrist had begun to cramp.

She let out a huff. What sort of idiot didn’t know how to properly get off? She could just get a boyfriend and to do it for her. Or a girlfriend- for it seemed every single woman in the world was capable of achieving her own self-pleasure except for Sansa.

The crimson haired girl pushed aside the blankets in frustration and contemplated sending a text to Margaery but, knowing the girl was out with her brother again, she voted against it. Should her brother read it…she had suffered enough embarrassment for the evening.

Sansa was relieved when a knock on the door forced her away from her thoughts of self-deprecation and flaccidity and she called out for whoever stood on the other side of the door to wait as she slipped on a robe and a pair of slippers, the icy tile making her shiver as she pattered toward the wardrobe.

Turning the knob the door swung open with a loud creak. Sansa blinked up at her guest, looking surprised upon seeing Jon Snow on the stoop. "Oh." she said.

"So you don’t even bother to hide your disappointment anymore?" he teased, coming insider after she had stepped out of the way. “I am glad we are such good friends.” A sprinkle of snow was melting in his dark curls and as he brushed them away he shivered, rubbing his hands together for hope at warmth.

"Not disappointed, just surprised. I thought you were out on a date." She said, closing the door behind him and undoing his coat for him as he struggled to do so while wearing his gloves.

"I _was_." said Jon pointedly. He meandered around the room for a moment before sitting on the sofa, gratefully accepting the beer Sansa offered and taking a long swig. He sighed.

Sansa frowned, looking at him. "Want to talk about it?"

For years she and Jon had only been passing acquaintances, a polite greeting here and there, or a kind word, but nothing more. He was her brother’s best friend. She was his best friend’s little sister. The connection was not born at first greeting. But after a few months of attending the same university and sharing the same building their relationship had morphed into something different, less of an acquaintance-ship and more of a friendship.

"No." Jon said stubbornly but nevertheless launched into a conversation about the rudeness of his date and how it had ended with her trying to bite his lip off, as he put it. "It was bloody awful. I'm never going out again."

"Liar." Sansa muttered, nudging him with her bare foot in a silent urge to pick a channel and stick to it, the remote hanging limply in his hand as the telly flickered. "You'll be out on another date tomorrow."

"I know." he conceded, settling on the latest rugby match between Riverrun and Sunspear. Jon considered her for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Got anyone to set me up with?"

"Nope." she huffed, flopping back against the pillows and taking a long pull from her beer. "If I had anyone I would take them for myself. It is too close to Valentine’s Day. I can't take all the couples this year."

"Did you see anyone tonight?" Jon asked, lying opposite her, his hip rubbing against hers as he moved to kick off his boots. "Your room looks...sort of like a sex fantasy from a dirty movie."

Sansa flushed, turning her face to the side so he could not see. "No. No date. Absolutely no date." she said, frowning. "Actually...I was sort of trying something."

Jon Snow pushed himself up on his elbows, his interest clearly piqued. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?" he teased.

"Hush up, you wanker." Sansa said, pushing him lightly with her bare foot. He made an effort to look like he was almost thrown off the couch by her light touch. She laughed. He smiled. She could almost feel the frost almost beginning to melt away from the window at his warmth. "It's been a while since I've...since Willas and I...what I mean is that-"

"You were masturbating weren't you?"

She looked at him, blinking in surprise. "How did you-"

"Scented perfume, candles, moonlight, smooth jazz- nice touch by the way. Plus the look of guilt and shame on your face. I could see it from a mile away." he replied. A grin pulled at his lips as he spoke, his sideways smirk both familiar and frustrating, as he teased her. "So how did it go?"

"It didn't _go_ anywhere. Apparently I'm as bad at masturbation as I am at dating." she said and opened her arms to accept the blanket her threw over them, tucking it under his legs so his feet would not get cold. "We are going to die old maids in the country and get eaten by our dogs."

"Ghost would never eat me." replied Jon, the only problem with her statement he could find. Suddenly he sat up, looking quite determined.

A beat passed between them as Sansa considered what had been said. "So how often do you do it?" asked she, a few moments later.

"Do what?" Jon asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a long pull from his bottle. She gave him a pointed look, making a quick but crude hand gesture. "Oh. _That_. Well...when I was younger I did it nearly every day. When I first discovered I could...you know, do it...I wouldn't leave the shower to save my life.” he looked suspicious.

“You masturbated that often?” she asked, half teasing, half curious. Every day? Really who had the time?

"You make it sound so lewd." Jon said, pulling a face.

"You're right. I might as well know how often you gracefully bring a hand to yourself to bring you over the greatest arches of ecstasy. Pleasure crashing over-"

Jon interrupted her with a smack to the face with a pillow and her sides began to ache with laughter as she took in his red face. "I'd stop laughing if I was you." he began. "At least I've reached the greatest arches of ecstasy."

"Low blow." replied Sansa, as fluttering embarrassment replaced her laughter. "It's actually quite harder than it seems. Now I understand what girls are always complaining about. It's practically a maze down there and-"

Jon ruckus laughter blew the rest of her words away. He clawed at his stomach, the pain that rippled through his sides now slowing him down even a breath, and his eyes were pressed so firmly closed that he did not see the pillow Sansa threw until it hit him square in the face and truly knocked him from the sofa.

Jon looked up at her from the carpeted floor, wiping tears from his eyes. She frowned, her hands upon her hips and her face as fiery red as her hair. "Well if it's so easy why don't you do it!"

"Do what?" Jon coughed, speaking between fits of laughter. His smile faltered. "Touch you?" She gave him a cool look and all at once his laugher died away, the silence of the flat enveloping them in a firm embrace. "Y-you're serious? You want me to show you how to..."

Defiance flared in Sansa like a curl of fire, warming her from the very bottoms of her feet to the ends of her crimson hair. She stared down at the man who lay across the white carpet, awaiting a response, wondering what he might say. She was almost sure he was a bit knackered. His ears were red and the apples of his cheeks glowed, just as they always did when he had had too much at the pub. And she had taken a shot with Margaery and Daenerys just before the girls left for the night, hoping the unfiltered vodka would loosen her up for what she had planned.

Perhaps that was it? She was drunk. She had always been a lightweight before. Perhaps Daenerys had actually given her a triple shot. That was the only explanation she could think of. And yet it did not explain why Jon was looking up at her, his eyes so dark they were almost black, hooded and deep, running up the length of her body as though she was wearing nothing at all.

She could hear herself speaking and knew she could not stop the words. She did not _want_ to stop the words. "Touch myself." she finished for him

Jon’s lashes were so long. She thought they might be enough to conjure a sandstorm as he looked up at her, sitting up. "Do...do you really want me to...to t-touch you t-there?"

Both of their gazes had dropped to his hands now. She had always been aware of how large they were but not they seemed more than large. They were strong and hardened from years of work. She desperately wanted them around her.

"Yes." Sansa choked out. She felt hollow. She felt foolish. She felt like she was throwing away a friendship that had taken years to cultivate, like a precious flower that would wilt if placed under too hot a sun.

Sansa looked down at her flower, the sun inside her beaming and said: "Yes…I mean…unless you don't know where to put it."

"I know where to put it!" Jon flared. Suddenly he was on his feet. She had never known he could move to fast before. His hand was on her arm, pulling her forward a hair too rough. Her other hand fell on his chest for balance, his legs bracing so they would not fall.

A beat passed between them. "Sansa." he whispered. She could see the muscles in his jaw working, the desire to run her fingers over it increasing steadily. His skin was so hot under her hands. So hard under her hands. Her fingers twitched and became suddenly able to feel the course hair there.

“What?” she whispered back. Their voices were so low only they could hear, a secret moment shared between them.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He murmured, his head dipping so low that his lips brushed the hollow part of her cheek, trailing to her ear and leaving a streak of warmth behind. She could feel her heart go cold with surprise, ice running through her body from head to toe. “I thought I would die before you said those words to me.”

Sansa looked up at him, suddenly aware of how the lapels of her robe unfurled. “You are a fool.” She returned. He waited for the response he was sure was coming. “A fool not to know that I’ve been waiting for the same thing.”

The force of his kiss was enough to knock her backwards, her feet becoming tangled in the mussed carpet. She tripped, an arm flying out to grab Jon round the shoulders, his arms closing around her waist and holding her steady, her toes dangling off the carpet like she was weightless.

His mouth was fire, his tongue running across her bottom lip and making her gasp like nothing ever had before. Jon held her tightly, painfully aware of how perfectly their bodies molded together, like they had been crafted of two halves of a whole, painfully aware of how long it had taken him to know it. When she had said those words…it was almost like something that had long ago been snuffed out came alive within him, the spark of her words lighting a roaring life.

Her lips were so soft and sweet, just as he had always wondered them to be, moving against his mouth in perfect motions, her teeth reaching out to catch his bottom lip, just for a moment, with just enough pressure to make him moan out loud. Jon could feel her smile against him, the hands that were around his neck curling into his hair and pulling lightly. Vaguely he remembered that he had told her he liked that. A thrill ran through him at the prospect that she remembered it.

Her hands disappeared from his hair and he tried not to sound too childish as he let out a whine. Sansa tsked her tongue. “We’ve waited ten years for this the least you can do is wait ten seconds.” She teased, her puckered mouth breaking apart from his with a pop.

Her hands were at the lapels of her robe, gently pulling until the fabric unspooled in her hands and fell away, leaving her with nothing beneath. The cold air of winter in Westeros left a sheet of gooseflesh running across her skin but it did nothing to deter from her beauty.

For a minute Jon just looked at her, his eyes sweeping over every inch of her body, his fingers twitching as his hand ached to reach out and replace his eyes. He traced the edge of her soft jaw, following the curve of her neck to the swell of her collarbone and down to her breasts, his thumb dragging down the curve of each pebbled nipple, soft as silk against his skin.

He could feel her stomach tremble and whispered a few soft words, the smile that pulled at her lips enough to calm her aching nerves. It was all so perfect he almost did not want to ruin the moment by touching her, like a precious work of art that was meant for study instead of touch.

Sansa’s blue eyes watched him evenly, panning across his face until she could resist his furrowed brow and red lips no longer, returning to the position that had left her breathless with lust.

She worked Jon’s shirt over his head as his fingers dropped to the button of his jeans, pushing the denim down over his hips and kicking it behind him, not caring that it struck the table and knocked over their beer bottles, amber coloured glass and warm fizz spraying over the carpet Sansa’s mother had given her.

Jon let out a strangled gasp when her hand fell upon him, her silky fingers running over the head of his penis with such smoothness he thought he might faint, the firmness of her warm hand making him see stars.

She kissed the edge of his jaw, nudging his nose with hers. “Will you teach me how to pleasure myself then?” she teased, her tongue rolling off every syllable with delicious enjoyment. She paused for a moment. “Although I suppose now I need not know. I have you to do it for me.”

Jon lifted her into his arms and moved towards her bedroom before she had even finished her sentence. It had all been too much for him, first the physical seduction and now a verbal one? He was putty in her hands.

Sansa let out a sigh, the weight of Jon’s body atop hers feeling nothing but fitting. His hips pressed against hers, their legs twisted like curling snakes, his shoulders rippling with muscle as he pushed himself up. They were meant to be together. They were meant to be like this. From the look on his face Sansa knew Jon was thinking the same thing.

He reached out to take her leg, draping it over his hip and holding her steady as he pushed into her, feeling her tighten and contract against him. She let out a stifled gasp, her lips pressed to the side of his neck, her mouth leaving a flush of hot air on his skin. He moved slower this time, fearing that, in his excitement, he had hurt her. but the words she whispered in his ear dissuaded him from that notion and soon enough his pace was set and matched by his lover, Sansa’s hips rising and rolling and curving forwards to meet his, the friction so hot it felt like fire between their bodies.

Sansa could not think. Her brain was scrambled, all thoughts lost like she was suffering temporary amnesia. But she did not care. All that mattered in this moment was she and Jon and the little moans and gasps he let out that her sexy enough to make her toes curl.

She had been with Willas loads of times. But never like this. She had never been with a man who held her hand as they made love, his long fingers curling around hers, gripping her like he was afraid to release. Who knew that she was ticklish so he brushed the hair from her eyes. Who knew that if he touched her just _there_ she would nearly scream with pleasure. She had never been with a man who knew her as well as Jon did.

“Sansa.” Jon gasped, his breath hitching. She could feel the drum of his heartbeat against his chest as she lifted herself to press flush against him, one of her hands brushing his cheek as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. She could tell her was close and was not far either and with only a few strokes they reached their peak.

Sansa was boneless and skinless and weightless. Jon choked out a gasp, Sansa’s hips grinding against his, her back arching in pure pleasure and making his moans deepen. Her teeth closed lightly upon his shoulder, the indentation of her teeth one he would bear proudly the following day, her moans loud enough to raise the eyebrows of the boy who was walking his dog before the flat.

Jon watched her, the flare of her nostrils, the way her brow furrowed as he eyes pressed tightly closed. He wished he could memorize it, every frame and image like in a movie. It was perfect.

Still breathless Sansa muttered, “Well,” She curled into Jon’s opened arms as they lay back on the bed. In their passion they had knocked all the pillows from the mattress and had to reach for them, Sansa offering a grin at the sight of Jon’s bare bum peaking out from under the flowered sheets as he leaned over. She felt herself about to give way into laughter and tried her hardest to resist, though in her weakened state that was no easy task. “You definitely know where to put it.”

Jon resisted the urge to say I told you so.


End file.
